


Emberi

by holymalfoys



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depression, Getting Back Together, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Post-Break Up, i wrote this in like an hour lmfao, sorry for the quality, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 22:02:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14923638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holymalfoys/pseuds/holymalfoys
Summary: And the sky collapses.





	Emberi

**Author's Note:**

> lord only knows what this is; i think it's a bit of a mess, but oh well. it's very different to my last work except it isn't really. enjoy.
> 
> ***PSA: I DON'T HAVE DEPRESSION OR PTSD (thankfully) SO MY DEEPEST APOLOGIES IF I OFFEND YOU IN ANY WAY BY MY PORTRAYAL OF THEM***

 

 

> **"Emberi (human) [adjective]; characteristic of people as opposed to animals or machines, especially in being susceptible to weaknesses."**

 

Draco.

Draco.

Draco.

His name drips through Harry’s brain like the specks of condensation raining down the window of his soul- not quite reaching his eyes but always there, always threatening to become something more, more, more.

Draco.

Harry decides it’s a horrible name. It spells destruction, pain, mystery, and Harry hates it.

Even the way it sounds, for Christ’s sake. Yes, it's a horrible name.

.

It’s not supposed to be like this.

It was never supposed to be like this,  _so why is it like this?_ Harry thinks irritably, desperately, achingly.

Irritable, irritable, irritable.

Always bloody irritable with fucking Malfoy.

Always has been, always will be.

.

 _Temporary_ , Harry’s mind whispers.

Temporary, temporary, temporary.

A quick fix.

Harry’s not sure what else it was.

He thinks they need each other.

He knows he needs Draco.

He doesn't know, actually.

He decides to sleep.

.

Perfectly dark. Not a light is in sight.

Harry inhales the night. It’s dangerous, too much like _him_ , too much like what it isn’t supposed to be.

The air compresses in his lungs, cracks his chest wide open, spills his heart all over the mattress, the floor, the flat, everywhere.

Harry doesn’t like the darkness, he decides, and turns on the light.

.

The light doesn’t help.

His mind’s on a field trip today (tonight? Who knows), chipping in unhelpfully with every tiny spot of what shouldn’t matter but does, it matters the world, it is the world, and Harry’s not ok, and he needs help, and _where_ _is he_ for fuck’s sake-

The world is too quiet, he thinks, just as a sharp rap touches his door, touches his soul, touches him in ways he never before imagined.

.

He lies still.

It’s not him. It can’t be him. It’s been too long.

But.

But what if it _is_.

Harry screws his eyes shut. _Please_ , he thinks.

He’s not sure what he’s pleading for.

.

The door sounds again, and Harry’s mind is awake.

Harry’s out of the bed in a flash.

 _Fuck, fuck,_ he thinks. _It’s him, it’s him, it’s him_!

Throwing open the door, he stops.

.

It’s not him.

It’s Luna, bearing flowers and a sad smile.

It’s daytime, then.

It's awfully bright, and the sky is blue.

Harry doesn’t know how the world goes on.

.

He doesn’t know what happens next, but the door’s closed and he’s on the floor and it hurts, _god damnit_ , it hurts.

It hurts so much.

"Please", he croaks inexplicably. His voice is too loud in the dark flat, too big for this small place.

He doesn’t know the last time he’s used it.

He doesn’t know anything anymore- he’s not sure he ever did.

.

The floor is uncomfortable.

Very uncomfortable, but it doesn’t stop Harry from lying on it for hours.

His mind is a mess, a mantra of _Draco_ , _Draco_ , _Draco_ over and over again.

Harry hates him, he thinks.

He doesn’t really know.

.

Sleep is a very funny thing.

She catches you at the strangest times, sometimes a hero, sometimes not.

But she always catches you, with her soft skin and comforting sighs and tales that stretch on for years.

Tonight, Harry welcomes her.

.

It’s so dark, and Harry doesn’t know where he is.

For a split moment, he thinks he’s in _his_ bed and that it's last month, and almost rolls over.

Almost.

And then he remembers.

 _Life is a cruel, cruel game_ , he thinks, as he lies in the pitch black grasp of his demons.

.

Maybe he falls asleep again.

He doesn’t know.

It’s so dark and he feels so cold, so isolate.

Perhaps he should open the curtains.

.

He can’t.

His body won’t let him.

The war ruined him, and Draco helped fix the mess.

Harry thinks he’s trapped in his mind, which is screaming at him to _move, move, move_.

He can’t.

.

There’s a knock at the door.

 _Repetition_ , Harry thinks.

He lies still, in the same position that he was in all those hours ago.

His heart is full of lead, and he can’t move.

The door knocks again.

 _Get up_ , it says. _Get up, Harry. Get up_.

It sounds like Draco.

.

It’s so dark, and he’s so cold.

 _Loneliness_ , he thinks as he shuffles out into the hall, _is the worst thing in this life_.

No.

It’s not.

His brain pounds behind his weary eyes, and his stomach fills with bile.

He doesn’t know when he last ate.

.

Harry rests his head against the dark doorframe.

 _There’s someone on the other side_ , he thinks.

He would like to say he doesn’t care, but he does.

He does. He cares so, so much.

It’s terrifying.

.

 _It’s so bright_ , Harry thinks, as he opens the door and keeps his eyes trained on the doorstep.

The concrete glows against his tired eyes, and he smiles.

At least the rest of the world is working.

.

There’s a pair of shoes on the doorstep, and Harry studies them.

 _They're awfully scuffed_ , he thinks, and then:

_They must belong to someone._

Perhaps the person wearing them.

He hears a sharp gasp and his gaze lifts.

 _It’s him_.

.

Draco’s hair is long and scraggly. His eyes are scrubbed red, and he looks like how Harry feels.

"No", Harry thinks- maybe he says it. "This isn’t real."

But it’s him.

It’s him, and he smiles a watery smile, chokes- maybe on a laugh, maybe on a sob- and says:

"Hi", before brushing away a stray tear with long, ringed fingers.

.

It's him.

 _It's Draco_ , Harry thinks.

And the sky collapses.


End file.
